Yorktown's Kenzie Knuckles moves in for the kill against Wapahani during the Delaware County Volleyball Tournament on Sept. 28 at Wapahani High School. Yorktown won the game 3-1. Corey Ohlenkamp/The Star Press

Yorktown's Kenzie Knuckles passes the ball during a 3-1 win over Providence in the Class 3A state championship. Starting in 2017, the volleyball postseason will be under a different format. Corey Ohlenkamp/The Star Press

Yorktown's Kenzie Knuckles serves in a loss to Providence on Nov. 7, 2015 during the IHSAA class 3A State Tournament in Worthen Arena. Knuckles is one of several returning Yorktown players this season. Corey Ohlenkamp/The Star Press

Yorktown's Kenzie Knuckles dives for the ball during their game against Wapahani on Monday at Yorktown High School. Yorktown won the game 3-0. Corey Ohlenkamp/The Star Press, Corey Ohlenkamp/The Star Press

Story Highlights

YORKTOWN, Ind. — The clock hits 9, and Kenzie Knuckles’ phone buzzes. She doesn’t have to look down to know what it says. It’s the same reminder she gets every Sunday night.

“Call daddy,” it reads.

Knuckles hasn’t been able to call her dad for more than three years now, not since cancer took his life too soon at age 57. She keeps that alert on to remind her of what he meant to her, and what those weekly conversations did for her.

Without dad, volleyball was always her way of escaping reality. But when the pressure of being one of the nation’s top high school players became too much last spring, Knuckles had to get out. She left Munciana and volleyball altogether and, naturally, rumors about why she took a two-month break spread like wildfire.

So much that she was breaking down. Those weekly reminders became regular visits to the cemetery because, after all, dad always knew what to say in times like these.

“It was hard for me, because I guess in a way there wasn’t anything I could turn to,” Knuckles said. “He knew if I went to him with trouble, that there was something actually wrong when he was alive. I think I just needed some sort of reassurance. That was the place where I needed to be.”

Now, Knuckles is a senior at Yorktown about to start her final season of high school volleyball. She will graduate in December with academic honors and leave in January for Nebraska to continue her college career. Knuckles is in a good place – “a totally different person than she was a year ago,” coach Stephanie Bloom said. – but that picture wasn’t quite so clear last summer.

“I think she’s learned that when you’re really good, people want to take you down,” Bloom said. “But I think in a lot of ways, this is life. And sometimes we have to walk through hard things and things that aren’t fair.

“Every day we have a choice to make. Who is Kenzie Knuckles going to be today? At the end of the day, if you can put your head on the pillow and say, ‘I lived with the character and integrity that I desire,’ then good for you. … It’s not just about getting tough skin. It’s about getting your mind in the right place.”

Think you know the real Kenzie Knuckles? Think again.

***

CLOSE

The Nebraska commit is one of the top high school volleyball players in the country.
Ryan O'Gara/Star Press

It was December 2014, and Knuckles was at Munciana practice when her mom walked in. She didn’t usually watch practice. So Knuckles knew something was up.

When she came off the court, her mom delivered the news: her father had Stage IV pancreatic cancer.

Pancreatic cancer accounts for about 3 percent of all cancers in the United States and 7 percent of cancer deaths, according to the American Cancer Society. It is one of the most deadly types of cancers, as symptoms usually don’t arise in the early stages. The five-year survival rate for Stage IV exocrine pancreatic cancer is about 1 percent.

So here is Knuckles, at 13 years old, thinking her dad was coming from his home in Nevada to visit for Christmas, to being told that he might have six months to live.

Knuckles and her dad had a close relationship growing up. Her parents divorced, and he moved to Nevada when she was 9. She was mad at him for about a year because she didn’t understand why. But the two repaired their relationship after that, and Knuckles said she even thought about moving to Nevada at one point.

She was old enough to know the situation was bad, but young enough not to comprehend just how dire things were about to get.

“I went to Burris at the time, and he spent a lot of time at the cancer research place at Ball, so I would go back and forth in between practices and see him,” Knuckles said. “At the time, I didn’t really know what to expect I guess. Just because my father’s character is very strong, and he didn’t want to show any weakness. So I didn’t really know how serious it was.

“I just remember I was at practice for Munciana, and I was on a team with Kylie (Murr). Her mom was the assistant. She sat me down and talked to me, and basically told me she would always be there for me. Just stuff like that, everyone kept on telling me what to expect.”

Around the time Knuckles turned 14 on March 19, her dad was getting progressively worse. He was receiving chemo treatments to try and shrink the tumor so he could have surgery, but it kept growing. A six-month outlook turned into maybe two.

It was a Monday the middle of April when Knuckles got called down to the office at school. Her dad had gone back to the doctor and now had three days to a week to live. She stayed home from school to be with him and missed Munciana practice Tuesday, but went Wednesday from 7-9 p.m. She remembers Mike Lingenfelter giving her reassurance that her volleyball family was there for her.

Knuckles remembers every detail from that night. She showered after practice and was laying in bed. Her dad’s room was right next to hers in their three-bedroom house. Her stepmom told her to go tell him goodnight. Knuckles peeked in, but was scared he wasn’t breathing so she didn’t go in. When her stepmom went to check, Knuckles could hear her dad gasping for air and the room fill with panic and then crying.

Mike Knuckles died on April 23, 2015.

“In that moment, I’d say I’ve always had regret,” said Knuckles, tears in her eyes. “I’ve never really said this out loud. But I’ve always had regret, because I never went to talk to him when I should’ve because I was scared… I just remember calling my mom and she immediately knew what was going on. The whole time I was talking to Kylie, and I think that’s why we are really close. I just didn’t know how I was supposed to feel.”

Knuckles left to play in a tournament the following day. It was the only thing that could keep her mind off things. She knew everyone was worried about her, and she didn’t want that. “For me, it was important to stay strong and act like I was strong enough to be OK.” Knuckles wouldn’t open up to her mom about it until more recently.

“She was strong, but my worry was that she was too strong,” said Knuckles’ mom, Crystal Lampkin. “It was like she didn’t show emotion. I wanted her to talk about it, I wanted to talk about it. But she kind of kept things inside and was trying to be that strong individual. I wanted her to be a kid and show emotion and let her know I was there for her. But it made her grow up a lot faster.”

Knuckles lives with her mom in Yorktown, just the two of them. They have grown closer since her dad’s death. Lampkin is a full-time nurse and works at a nursing home every other weekend “to make sure she’s well taken care of and that her lifestyle hasn’t changed from when her dad was living.” Being a single parent and only child in the house means extra responsibilities, but they have each other’s backs and make it work.

And Knuckles still keeps her dad’s memory alive. She has photos of him on her Twitter page. She’s still close with her stepmom and visits occasionally. She remembers he loved to cook (his mashed potatoes were her favorite), play golf and his favorite song was Live like you were dying by Tim McGraw – “My favorite song came to bite me in the butt,” he joked when he first talked to Knuckles about his cancer.

“I feel like I’m not only playing for myself but also to make him proud,” Knuckles said. “That was my dad’s main thing, like, ‘This is my daughter. She plays volleyball and she’s super good.’ So for me, it’s always been like our sport. So whenever I succeed in something, it just makes me really happy because of that.”

***

Before her dad died, Knuckles approached him about transferring from Burris to Yorktown.

The reason? “Kylie.”

OK, so that wasn’t the whole reason. But it was a big part. Knuckles and Murr met at Munciana when they were on the same 12-year-old team. Murr jokingly claims that Knuckles hated her at first, but it didn’t take long for them to click. Her family took Knuckles in and they basically lived together for a while after her dad died.

“I knew Burris wasn’t the place for her,” Murr said, “so I took her under my wing and convinced her to come here with me. We were like family at that point, so I feel like her mom really trusted me to take her in. I’ll always remember it was our first night before school. She spent the night because she was so nervous, and I was nervous too. We literally stayed together and woke up at 5 and got ready, and thought it was like the biggest deal ever. Ever since, we’ve been playing volleyball together.”

Bloom added: “I said this the other day to Kylie’s mom, ‘I feel like Kylie is a piece of home for Kenzie.’ The two of them, they might butt heads and fight, but they also have a really unique relationship because they’ve kind of grown up together and walked through some hard stuff together.”

To say Knuckles took off as a Yorktown volleyball player is an understatement. She has played on varsity since she was a freshman, won a state championship and was named National Sophomore of the Year by Prep Volleyball.

She was a budding superstar. After that stellar sophomore season, Knuckles tried out and made the Munciana Samurai – the club’s top 18s team – as a 15-year-old.

Everything was fine at first. But as things got harder, doubt started to creep into Knuckles’ head. What if she couldn’t live up to these astronomical expectations?

“I didn’t have a car, I couldn’t drive – I couldn’t do anything,” she said. “And I was playing with girls that could do those things and were old enough and mature. I thought I was ready. I went from playing 15-year-olds to playing 18-year-olds that were about to play in college. I felt like I couldn’t do it, or I was being pushed too hard. And my drive for volleyball, I saw myself losing it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play volleyball, I was scared I wasn’t good enough. And that’s not me. I’ve always wanted to play the best of the best. I’ve always wanted to be the best. But I could slowly feel myself being scared to go out there. I kind of got in my own head and said I needed a break.”

At the airport before heading to Florida for spring break, Knuckles told her mom she needed a break. She took the week to think and afterwards decided to step away. She had conversations with Bloom, her Nebraska coach and Lingenfelter, with that one being particularly difficult because he had taken a chance on her.

“My biggest thing is I hate letting people down,” Knuckles said. “He’s always been the person I admired, a figure that I always wanted to be proud of me. That’s another reason why I was scared in a way, because I didn’t want to not be good enough for the person I’ve always dreamed of playing for. I think that got the best of me. I think in a way he blamed himself, but I don’t blame him at all. I think I was just too young to take on so much responsibility. I wish I would’ve talked to him more, or maybe just kind of slowed down and not fully decided to stop. But at some point I just thought I don’t want to fully lose my love for volleyball.”

Taking what ended up being two months away from the game was hard enough. What really got to Knuckles, and what she really didn’t understand, was when people started coming to their own conclusions about why she stepped away.

The rumors were everywhere. She decommitted from Nebraska. She was done playing volleyball altogether, including at Yorktown. Bloom and others could see Knuckles breaking down emotionally.

“When my whole dad thing happened, Munciana was who was there for me,” Knuckles said. “Just hearing rumors and why people thought I was doing it, I thought, ‘I grew up with these people, I thought they were my friends and my family.’ That sucks they couldn’t ask me. I was really brokenhearted.”

It was even tough for Murr, her best friend, because simple gossip was getting twisted into complete fabrication.

“I would be at practice and people would be like, ‘Where’s Kenzie?’” Murr said. “And I would be like ‘I don’t know.’ I knew, but it wasn’t my place to tell. I think she made the right decision. I’m not saying I would ever do that, but I 100 percent agree with her decision. It was hard listening to people talk about her and I would stand up for her, sure. But I just let them talk if they wanted to talk, because they don’t know what’s going on.

“I think when she quit, she hated it. Like hated volleyball. And I think that break for her really made her miss it and realize what she has. People were like, ‘Kenzie Knuckles quit!?’ And that made her realize, ‘Oh, Kenzie Knuckles. She is someone that could do something special.’ … She needed to get out of it. If she wouldn’t have, I don’t think she would still be playing volleyball.”

Once open gyms started for school, Knuckles was eager to get back on the floor. Although it took her a while to get her confidence back. Bloom said June was so rough that she called Knuckles in for a meeting and told her “If you’re going to be here, be all in. But if you don’t want to be here, that’s fine too.”

The switch flipped. Knuckles had another big season as Yorktown went 36-3 and went to semistate. She loved the season and said she wishes she would’ve went out for Munciana this year. But after the way things went down, Knuckles didn’t feel like she could. It’s one of her biggest regrets in that regard.

Still, she needed that break. And as much as taking time off helped Knuckles gain her confidence back in volleyball, her mom thinks it also helped her finally grieve her dad’s death.

“It gave her time to really think things through,” Lampkin said. “I think it allowed her to prioritize a lot of things in life, and allow her to have emotions about losing her dad. … At first, she was like afraid for me to leave the house or go somewhere. Now it’s at a comfort level for her. She’s very level-headed. She’s a strong individual.”

***

Understand that most kids don’t have to go through things like this before they graduate high school. Knuckles’ teammates and coaches may tease her about being overly dramatic sometimes, but they know she carries herself well for a 17-year-old.

Not many people know Knuckles like Bloom, who has seen her grow from a timid freshman to a team leader over the last four years. The two share a connection that has been built on trust.

“It’s funny,” Bloom said. “Wes Lyon teased me when she came to Yorktown that I was the only person in the area who didn’t know who Kenzie Knuckles was. And so we kind of laugh about that now. But we have a special relationship. She’s had some hard things that I think because of that, the nature of them, I think she has reached out to me differently than other players might. Other players don’t need me in those types of capacities. So I think we definitely have a special bond.”

There have been times when Knuckles has gone over to Bloom’s house to vent and cry to her. She did it during the Munciana situation, and again when she and a longtime boyfriend broke up last fall. Plus, Knuckles said she loves Bloom’s coaching style and can see her coach always has her best interest in mind.

“She’s always been a big role model for me and a big respect yourself kind of person,” Knuckles said. “Always been a person I feel like I can talk to about literally anything. She’s always given me the best advice, even if it’s not what I really want to hear. I think she’s always been a big role model for me because of how she carries herself and her family. Everything she says I really do take to heart.”

Bloom added: “I’ve tried to be a constant in her life, because that’s something that can be lacking at times. I think she needs the consistency of, ‘I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. And I’m going to love you. Sometimes that’s going to be hard to hear, and sometimes that is gonna be tough love. And I’m always going to tell you the truth.’ And I think she, even when it’s been hard, has respected that and has seen the consistency in that.”

Losing a parent isn’t easy for anyone, let alone a kid. And when Knuckles did decide to take a break from volleyball, it was Bloom talking her through it, and her mom driving her to beach practice in Fort Wayne, and Murr always being there.

Perhaps the greatest lesson Knuckles has learned is to value those in your inner circle – even if it is small – and not let go.

"This past year, I learned to get a feel of who I am and what I’m going to be like without those people when I go off to college,” she said. “It was a big obstacle to get over, but once I did I felt like I was ready and am rejuvenated.”

***

Talking to Knuckles about her senior season, you can hear the excitement in her voice. A chipped bone in her ankle she suffered during summer workouts slowed her down some, but she is ready to go.

In a perfect world, she wins another state championship before going off to Nebraska to start school and volleyball workouts. Knuckles will play beach – just like her dad used to in California – with the Huskers to try and keep pace and earn a spot with one of America’s top programs.

Knuckles still makes visits to the cemetery, but they’re not as frequent. That’s not where she needs to be. She now has the right mindset to go with the tough skin she’s developed.

Most importantly, she now remembers why she plays this game.

“I definitely want to make people proud, and I definitely want to prove people wrong that did doubt me,” Knuckles said. “For me, that’s a lot of motivation. I’m ready for it.”

If Knuckles does need a reminder, she won't have to go looking. It will be there every Sunday at 9 p.m.